My Little Oneshots
by Tithenmamiwen
Summary: A series of oneshots all featuring a US/UK pairing.  Ch.3 summary: It is said that, if you leave a white candle out on Christmas Eve before going to bed, the Christmas angel will appear to light it….assuming he can get out of the stupid American's arms.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Sure, dealing with a drunk England was difficult, but…if he got a kiss every time, he could get used to it.

Warning(s): Fluff, drunken singing, humor

Pairing(s): US/UK

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Hetalia Axis characters. Also, I do not own the song- that privilege goes to Kyle Liam Sullivan. If you do not know who he is, well…shame on you. XD Check out 'What are you guys talking about?' and 'Mother Grandma Painting the Pony' on youtube, they're hilarious.

**My Little Pony**

"_My Little Ponyyy, my little ponyyy,_

_She's soft and green, with a l'il orange maneee,_

_My little ponyyy, my little ponyyy,_

_She likes her whiskey like MEEEEE!"_

America snickered as England belted out the last word, causing cats to knock over garbage cans, and making dogs bark.

It could only be a good thing that he only had a few more steps to England's doorstep, though because not only was England starting to get louder in his drunkenness, but it was getting harder to walk him to his house.

He tried to ignore how England's head rolled onto his shoulder, small breaths of air hitting him in the neck, making a tingling sensation.

"Heyyyy…hey, Iccyyyyyy…Why couldn't the hunters just eat cheese?"

America choked on saliva at the shortened name, but tried to keep a serious face on. "…The….hunters, England?"

"Yesh… in Bambi, de hunters killed de wabbit….Why couldn't de hunters just eat cheese?"

America was unable to keep a straight face on at England's rambling. Not after hearing England's, apparently serious, concern for the cartoon character. _God, this is GOLDEN. Why didn't I bring my voice recorder with me?_

"Well, England…perhaps the hunters were just," here America let out a slight giggle of amusement, "lactose intolerant."

England frowned in thought a moment before finally nodding in agreement.

Finally, America and England reached the doorstep, and America shifted England slightly in order to reach England's pocket for the key. Normally he would have been able to use his own copy- and if England found out he copied the house key with_out_ permission, he'd kill the one who squealed- but it was impossible to get into his own back pocket with England still clinging around his arms.

England…who was now currently murmuring nonsense under his breath, and was now close enough that he could feel the slight movement of lips against his skin.

"Hey, hey England, get back a little, k?"

It was hard enough fighting his own attraction to his ex-caretaker on a daily basis, but now, with England so close, it was even harder.

Gently leaning England against the wall, he leant back a little to get a look at England.

It was already a humid night due to it being summer and getting a hot shower earlier in the day, but the heat from too much drinking had made England sweat enough that his white shirt was somewhat transparent….his white, _thin_ shirt.

Looking down at England, he could see the silhouette of a delicate collarbone, and, looking further down, two small nubs of flesh.

He still had his hands on England's shoulders…he could gently trail a hand down England's chest on his way to England's pockets. He'd brush, _accidentally_, against a nipple- feeling it harden slightly at the touch- and on the way up- no, NO!

America shook his head, clearing his mind of perverted things, before moving a hand _off_ his shoulder and straight into the pocket for the key.

No molesting his love interest until _after_ he manages to muster up the courage to ask England on a date, and then- only then- when England is interested in a relationship would he allow himself to molest and cuddle England to his heart's content.

Opening the door, and getting England inside, was actually easier than the walk to the house. As soon as he closed the door, and locked it, he gently picked up England and started the journey upstairs to the bedroom. After all, if he just allowed England to walk and only guided him upstairs, then it would take forever getting him to his bedroom. He was a hero like that, and it had absolutely nothing to do with getting to feel the smaller body closer to his chest.

_Yeah…a hero_, America groaned in his mind, _a hero who still can't confess his feelings._

Opening the door to England's bedroom, he walked to the bed and gently lowered him onto his bed.

Reluctantly pulling himself away, he was totally unprepared for England's fist to grab him by the shirt, and tug him back down for a sloppy kiss.

Shocked, he braced himself against the side of the bed so as not to crush his love interest, and slowly pulled away when England let go.

It was as England started to close his eyes to sleep off the rest of his drunkenness that America- Alfred F. Jones- heard those three whispered words that sent sharp bursts of pleasure to his heart.

"Love you, Git."

Heading downstairs to sleep on the couch, America let out a huge grin. Sure, dealing with a drunk England was difficult, but…if he got a kiss every time, he could get used to it.

_~Fin_

**Author's Note:** First off, drunk England is drunk. Second off, hehe, while I might not own Kyle Sullivan's song, I DO own the question England asked America. Really, it's a true family story, though it's somewhat a spin-off.

Seeing as how England's drunk, I doubt he'd have recognized that the animal was really Bambi's mother, but America's smart enough to know what character England was talking about.

Also, one more note. I do not know what weather is like during the summer in England, so, if I'm wrong in that it can get a humid rain shower, then my bad. D:


	2. Musical Tics

Summary: It was his own fault the spell backfired, but, really, it seems like God is laughing down at him right now. "Because _I'm_ the hero!" …really…

Warning(s): humor

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: As always, do not own anything from Hetalia.

**Musical Tics**

How did this happen again?

Oh yes, it was his fault. As a person who did not have to live with a speech impediment, he was starting to get annoyed with the constant verbal diarrhea of speech tics.

In a meeting- where something, _anything_- was supposed to get done, talks and discussions somehow could not get anywhere before an 'aru' or an 'eh' (though, who's was that one? He kept forgetting somehow) would appear. England liked things with a certain _order_ and _cleanliness_ about, and that included the spoken word.

So, during the lunch break, he figured he could sneak back to weave a bit of magic in the meeting room. Not a lot, just enough that a person could understand another person without have to wade through the speech rubbish that was verbal tics.

Everything was going fine.

He had his chalk (made with purifying agents that helped make the magic stronger!), he drew the right symbols in the center of the room (really, being under the table for that long gave him such a crick in his back, that he hoped the others would appreciate his kind gesture), and he had locked the door before starting so that no one could interrupt him (silly nations, really, letting him be the last one to leave).

But, what he had NOT anticipated was the amount of dust underneath the table.

He was allergic to dust, one of the many reasons why he kept his house so clean and tidy. He, Arthur Kirkland- _the_ personification of the mighty nation of England- had dust allergies…at the most critical part of his chanting.

Arthur's very last thought before everything went blank was, '…knickers…'

_~x~_

"Hey, hey, do you think he's awake, aru?" "Maple, do you guys really have to crowd about him so much, eh?" "Hey, who's crowding who, China- Honhonhon?"

The voices, loud and obnoxious, broached his waning mind moments before his vision started clearing. Blinking away the blurriness, England stared upwards to find everyone surrounding him in his field of vision.

Slowly sitting upwards, England rubbed his eyes before mumbling, "Wh' h'pp'ned?"

A few of the other nations frowned before China spoke up, "Maple, so you don't remember, eh? Whatever you tried to do backfired terribly on you, eh. It takes a few minutes for it to appear…eh."

England frowned in thought before clearing his throat, "So…I guess I wasn't the hero after all then, huh?"

Eyes widened….WAIT! BACKTRACK!

I'm….hero….oh hell no!

A couple of the other nations affected, and less polite, stifled a snicker. Well, at least the mystery of what speech problem England got was solved.

America grinned, slyly letting a hand slip to England's waist. "Honhonhon, so what were you trying to succeed in accomplishing?" The hand didn't get very far before it was slapped away.

England frowned- it was not a pout, damn it!- before responding, "I was getting tired of how, every time we met for meetings, almost nothing was ever achieved because of the verbal tics at the end of every sentence," England sighed, "so, I decided to be a hero and cast a spell to erase them in the meeting room….I did not intend for it to backfire…how unheroic."

There was a silence before Russia piped up, "Perhaps, like, there is totally, like, a way to fix, like, this mess…like?"

Everyone stared at Russia for a moment before giving off a simultaneous, full body shiver and went back to trying to ignore him for the rest of the conversation.

England, thoughts churning about robots and _hero man_, started to grin, "Dude, if there is totally a solution to this mess, then I'm the man for the job, cuz _I'm_ the hero!"

Everyone choked on air at the obvious 'z'…they never thought there'd be a time when England would use that lonely letter instead of that promiscuous 's'.

Germany, as ever the sole voice of reason, sighed before gathering his own items. "Awesome, I suggest, since the awesomeness that is I is awesome, then that we adjourn for the day since it seems like there is so much unawesomeness in this room. Let's hope this unawesomeness does not follow us and contaminate the awesomeness outside."

Everyone, muttering in agreement, began to gather up their belongings, and started to leave, wanting to get as far away from the room as possible.

England stood up but, before he began gathering his items, he noticed a person in the corner.

Hey, he knew that person!

Moving to greet the wallflower, he grinned.

"Hey, Ma-oomph!"

His progress was cut short as America tackled him to the floor and sat on poor England to keep him from moving away from his roving hands.

Preoccupied with hands and fingers and _America_, England couldn't remember who he thought he saw.

And, while trying to squirm away from the stronger nation, all England could think was that it was his own fault the spell backfired, but, really, it seems like God is laughing down at him right now. "Because _I'm_ the hero!"

…really…

_~Fin_

**Omake**

The person in the corner sighed, clutching his knees to his chest, "Do you think anyone will ever notice me?"

The small polar bear looked up at him from washing his paw, "Who _are_ you?"

The person sighed miserably, "I'm Canada…Da…"

_~Fin_

**Author's Note:** And, so the first, and only time, someone other then America recognizes him, and it's only for half a second…sorry Canaidia! T^T Also, scary Russia-Canada is scary. o.o Anyways, if you really wanted to know:

England= America

Italy= China

America= France

China= Canada

Russia= Poland

Germany= Prussia (though, how he snuck in, no one will ever know. n.n)

Canada= Russia


	3. Christmas Angel

Summary: It is said that, if you leave a white candle out on Christmas Eve before going to bed, the Christmas angel will appear to light it….assuming he can get out of the stupid American's arms long enough to light the damn thing.

Rating(s): PG

Pairing(s): US/Britannia Angel, Finland

Disclaimer: Again, as usual, I do not own these characters.

**Christmas Angel**

"-and, if you're ever quiet enough, perhaps you might get a chance to see the angel."

There was a few moments of silence before America let out a loud laugh, "Get real, England. There are no such things as angels. Where do they hide, with your other invisible friends?"

England slammed the book closed, with a scowl on his face, and glared darkly at America. "Pipe down you idiot, I never _said_ anything about the angel being real, all I said was that it was a children's tale to get them to sleep. Besides, who are you to laugh when you think Santa Claus is real?"

America's brother, though the name escaped England for the moment, just gave England an apologetic look before rolling his eyes upwards. The look had _words_ in it…it clearly said, 'I apologize for this uncouth being sitting across from you. Tell me, Immortal Parental Unit in the Sky, what wrong did I commit to have this creature for a brother?'

The solemn moment of shared pain was broken when America, eating cookies while talking, sprayed cookie crumbs on the floor. "Yeah, but everyone already knows that Finland's Santa Claus….he's Finland."

England just sighed and shook his head, "Well…regardless of whether you believe or not, it couldn't hurt to just leave a candle out, now could it?" He dug into his coat pocket, and handed a small-tapered candle to America.

"Now be good boys, you hear? And, for the love of God, don't stay up so late on Christmas Eve. I'm taking time out of my schedule to visit you Christmas morning for presents; the least you can do is at least look awake and ready to receive me."

With his last words, he gave a small nod to the two boys, and let himself out of the house.

After all…preparations had to be made.

_~x~_

America stared down at the small candle. It was the same one that England had given him weeks ago when he last visited, and he still couldn't put much stock in it.

After all, it was one thing to believe in Santa when you saw him with your own eyes while on an island…it was a totally different subject when it's just a tale.

But….perhaps it couldn't hurt…

Making up his mind, he placed the candle in a candleholder, and put it on the fireplace mantle before heading into the kitchen to make cookies.

After all, Finland might get hungry after delivering his presents. After baking, and decorating, the cookies for Finland, America made a quick dinner and got ready for bed.

It was Christmas Eve.

_~x~_

He let his wings keep a steady beat, gliding to the last house for the night.

He had already passed Finland a few times, though he wasn't sure if Finland recognized him under the cover of darkness or not.

Finally touching down in front of the house, he landed right beside Finland's sleigh. The Christmas Angel quietly walked to the door, and laid a hand on the doorknob, when it opened suddenly.

Seeing Finland on the other side, the angel gave a small sigh of relief before giving a cordial nod to the other Christmas being.

Finland returned the nod and stepped aside, holding the door open for his acquaintance before climbing back into his sleigh and travelling back home.

While in the air, he let an amused grin appear on his face.

_Besides_, he thought, _it's not every day you see a fellow nation with wings._

_~x~_

The door closed softly behind him.

Finland had already left, so it was obvious Alfred was safely asleep, since Finland wouldn't have even entered the house until the occupants were sound asleep due to wanting to keep his identity secret.

Creeping silently into the living room with the large bay windows, the Angel saw the Christmas tree and, over to the fireplace, was the candle.

Being as silent as he possibly could, England stalked through the room to the fireplace, and reached on his tiptoes to get the white candle.

A sudden noise startled him before he felt himself getting tackled, not even getting a chance to turn around.

Falling to the ground, his vision blanked out a moment before he found himself on his back, with a certain American straddling his waist.

"Duuuude, so you ARE real! That, or you're just a lame-ass human with wings glued to your back. Hey, hey, are they real? I bet they feel soft. I can touch them, can I? Of course I can, I'm America!"

The angel spluttered as he felt large hand eagerly- though trying to be as careful as possible- reach behind him to stroke his wings.

Any threats and bursts of outrage instantly died as he felt those hands finger and explore the downy white. Gently, fingertips traced along the wing muscles before slowly wandering up to his shoulder blades where feathers met flesh.

The Christmas Angel, otherwise known as Britannia Angel, let out a slow exhale as his eyes met America's, and squirmed as he started feeling uncomfortably warm.

America gazed down at the small angel, his gaze changing into a look of worshipful awe as he realized that they were, indeed, real wings.

Leaning back slightly, his gaze took in more of the angel noticing, for the first time, the dress-like toga that hung loosely about his frame, the gentle swell of hips, and the fact that the toga- though obviously for the angel- was a little too big around the shoulders, and that the one bit of fabric holding the toga up fell loosely down his arm, showing off two pale, pink nipples.

America bit his lips in debate before slowly, ever so slowly, leant down to place gentle kisses on the naked shoulders, slowly making his way downwards.

His actions caused the angel to start his squirming once more.

It is said that, if you leave a white candle out on Christmas Eve before going to bed, the Christmas angel will appear to light it….assuming he can get out of the stupid American's arms long enough to light the damn thing.

_~Fin_

**Author's Note:** Er, yeah…made up my own myth for some US/Brit Angel loving….don't judge…


End file.
